


Setting Sail

by thejourneymaninn



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, But Mostly Hurt, Character Death(s), Death, F/M, Fenhanders - Freeform, Grief, Hurt, M/M, Pain, fenhanders week, saying goodbye, terminal illness, with maybe a little comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 11:10:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10570095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejourneymaninn/pseuds/thejourneymaninn
Summary: They wanted to grow old together - but life had other plans. And as always, one has to be the last to go. Hawke, Anders and Fenris say their Goodbyes. Each in their own way.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For @teamblueandangry’s Fenhanders Week 2017  
> "Saturday, 8th - Let’s Grow Old Together  
> \- What does the end look like? Where did the trio end up? This is a time for some angst and goodbyes. Tissues suggested."

Anders keeps fussing over him, pretending that everything’s alright. Trying to spare him the pain. He thinks Fenris doesn’t know he’s been hearing it, thinks he doesn’t know how afraid he is. And how brave. For him. Foolish mage. Hawke is smiling, even though he can tell that inside, she is crying. For him. Foolish woman. His chest feels too tight to contain the fondness woven into the words. He doesn’t want to leave her, doesn’t want to leave either of them. And still he asks them to let him go; every day, he assures them he is ready. It is the last gentleness he has to give. This simple lie. There is no ready. There is only the inevitable. This all-consuming weakness in his bones, the exhaustion that chains him to this bed. He remembers all the times he was sent into battle. He didn’t fight because he wanted to; he fought because there was no choice. And now he has to give up because there is no choice. The Maker has a poor sense of humour indeed. What use is his freedom now? There is no peace to walk into. Just loss and regret. But…not the regret he once carried. It takes so much out of him, this tiny smile. He wonders if it will be his last one. It would be a good note to leave on. This one little fragment of peace he can clasp in all this cruelty. After all this time, it is finally regret for what will no longer be, not regret for what was. Their love, their lives, entangled, their journey, this house, their home. In the end, he got the one thing he dreamt of. A preposterous dream, a foolish hope. Yet it came true. He was happy, and not just for a little while. Because he found them. And he will find them again. In the next world, and all other worlds that may come. Perhaps there is enough strength left for just one more smile. No. Two. He will manage two. One for each of them.

 

Your pain screams so loudly it pierces my ears. Every second is agony; some days, you are too weak to even open your eyes. I'm trying to respect your wishes. I have stopped healing you. I take away as much pain as I can, but nothing more. I feed you, but I don't force more into you than you are willing to take. You are slipping, fading right in front of us. The lyrium is burning through your skin, eating you alive, and for all my magic, for all of Justice’s power, there is nothing I can do. Not anymore. You say you are ready to let go. But I am not. I know it’s time, know I should hope for your release. There is so little left of you. And yet I keep clinging, dreading the moment you are longing for. When you will be gone. And we will be alone. With memories and guilt to haunt the years that remain. Please love, don't leave us. Just one more night, just one more breath. I am not ready.

And neither is she. She’s trying to stay strong, but I can tell she’s barely holding up. And so can you. We have both seen that mask before. Bethany. Her mother. She held back her tears then, just as she does now. I can’t tell her about the song. Not yet. Not until you…No. _Don’t think about that_. How can I put her through that? She’ll be the last one left. Again. I’ll wait until they’re here. To say Goodbye. I don’t think they’ll make it in time. Not for this one. I should have called them sooner, should not have listened to you. Stubborn elf. Wonderful elf. My love. When my time comes, they will be here. I promise. You don’t have to worry about her. They’ll hold her tight and take her with them. Three pirates on the open sea. One more adventure for her. She’ll be alright.

She has to be.

 

 

And there goes everything we built, the moments we shared, the meals we cooked, the stories we told, our favourite places...you are in all of them, and they are nothing without you. Crumbling....crashing...who could have known we'd have so little time? A string of moments - and suddenly, none.

 

 

Up in the crow’s nest, Hawke is tying a feather and a red piece of cloth into a bandage. She wraps it around the mast, as high as she can reach, and sticks a dagger – the one tied to her father’s blood – right into the middle. The crew will not touch it; Isabela made sure of that. She wriggles the hilt, just to be sure, and nods. Everything is in place, and secure. It will hold. For now. Not forever. Nothing ever lasts forever. She shouldn't have forgotten that. A mistake she will not repeat.

Running her finger over the arrangement, she manages a faint smile. Up high in the air, wind and salt around them and all of the world at their feet. Free. They would have loved it, all three of them. All five. Carver and Bethany shared the same blood. A crease forms between her brows as she reaches out for the dagger again, this time for the blade itself. She watches as the bandage turns red and nods again. There’s more to her blood than her father; her mother deserves freedom too.

She makes sure to use the other hand to stroke the cloth, and the feather, one last time.

_I am yours._

_I love you._

_Always._

 

 

They are waiting for her on the deck below, one with a hug, the other with a bottle. Isabela and Merrill. They haven’t left her side since they came to see him. For the last time.

They held her, fed her, washed her. When she felt like she could never get up again, they dragged her out bed, and they keep inviting her into theirs. Hawke can’t shake the feeling that a certain mage encouraged them to. Leaning against the railing, the wind ruffling her hair, she smiles. Always taking care of everyone, even with his last breaths. One day she might take them up on the offer. But not yet. For now she is still faithful. Still grieving.

Anders waited months before he finally told her. She had known, of course. But she kept quiet. For Fenris. And then, for Anders. He thought she wasn’t ready to face it. She knew _he_ wasn’t.

When the time came, when they could no longer desperately put it off, Isabela kept Fenris’ promise for him. She made it quick. And she didn’t let Hawke anywhere near the dagger.

“No, sweet thing. You’ve had to do this for too many people you love already.”

Hawke held him during his last moments, kissed the last smile he would ever give her.

And then she was alone.

At least life had given them a few more years to mourn Fenris together. He was gone. And yet he was everywhere.

Now they both are.

She can’t see them when she goes to sleep, can’t reach either of them, but Justice assures her Fenris’ soul didn’t pass through the fade like those of the dead are said to do. As stubborn in death as he had been in life, Fenris stayed. Waited. And Anders found him.

They are together now, waiting for her. It doesn’t matter how long it takes. The fade knows no time.

She has to believe it. Justice would not lie.

She cried the first time she met him in her dreams. She couldn't find her loves, but Justice found _her_. And he keeps finding her, almost every night. They talk, like they used to when the others were asleep. Sometimes, he tries to comfort her with hugs. They are too tight, and awkward, and she cherishes every single one of them. Another reason why she prefers to sleep alone, for now. At night, she hasn’t lost them all. Her lovers may be gone, but her friend is still there.

Next to her, the rattle of jewellery, the soothing tones of an old Dalish prayer for the dead.

And a question, a smile, streaks of grey in black hair, every line around her eyes filled with mischief. Her beauty knows no age, her hunger for life no limit.

“So, where do you want to go next?”

The grin she throws Isabela doesn’t have as much force as it used to. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get the old one back. But then, she also thought she’d never smile again.

“Surprise me.”

Before her lies the sea. She will keep her hand firmly closed around the pain and take it with her, as she sails into freedom, her friends at her side. They will share the stories. Varric will write them down.

They will be remembered.

 

Anders sometimes regretted that they didn’t have children. As they set sail, she finds she is alright with it. An end is an end, and sometimes an end is needed. No more guilt and complicated stories, no more lies. No more Hawkes.

But this one still has a couple of flights left in her.

And when she gets too weak to soar, they will be waiting.


End file.
